Merrin was sitting on a chair by the bed when the doorbell rang. After the initial shock, she had dialled 999 to be told that a local member of the police force would be with her very shortly. She had made the call out on the landing but instead of going downstairs to wait for the police, she had returned to the bedroom, pulled up a chair and sat down beside the poor, dead boy. Somehow, it didn’t feel right to leave him all alone. She knew it was odd but she just felt she should be keeping him company.

Her mind kept shifting back to Adam. How quickly the world can change, she thought, and become an alien and frightening place. In the days immediately after Adam’s death, she felt she no longer belonged anywhere, that nothing was familiar any more. She could feel herself slipping back into that dark place again, now. Five minutes ago, she had been happily planning to make a home for her daughter, and now . . .

The doorbell chimed again and pulled her into reality. With one last look at the boy, she stood up and hurried down the stairs. A rather bedraggled figure greeted her; it was pouring with rain. ‘Come in – you’re getting soaked,’ said Merrin.

‘Just for a moment, thank you, but I’ll have to go back to my car. I left my warrant card in my jacket when I put on my waterproof. You’re Mrs McKenzie?’

Merrin nodded.

‘I’m Sergeant Eddy. I was here in town when we got your call. My inspector will be along directly; he’s in Truro at the moment.’ He paused for breath. ‘Have you really got a dead body here? Only you seem very calm, Mrs McKenzie, and we don’t have much call for dead bodies in St Ives.’

In different circumstances, Merrin would have been amused. ‘I know St Ives is pretty crime-free, compared with most places,’ she said patiently, ‘but I can assure you that there is a dead body upstairs.’

The sergeant seemed in no hurry to examine the body. ‘Are you local, then?’ he asked.

‘I was once, and hope to be so again,’ Merrin replied.

The sergeant stared at her, frowning. Suddenly, his expression cleared. ‘You’re not Mrs McKenzie at all, you’re little Merrin Tripconey, old Harry Trip’s maid. I used to go out with your dad when I was a boy, when he ran his boat out of Hayle. I used to help him bring in the crabs, lobsters, too, sometimes. Damned heavy, those pots, did my back in good and proper, never been right since. Well, I never, little Merrin Tripconey has come home. I used to play footie with your brother, Jago; I was the year above him at school. Whatever happened to Jago? I think he went to foreign parts, didn’t he?’

It was Merrin’s turn to stare into the face of the sergeant and try to peel back the years. He looked a lot older than her brother, he had lost most of his hair and he was rather overweight for a policeman. But looking into his face, she could suddenly see the young lad who had helped her father – thin as a rake then, with a shock of dark hair and always cheerful, cheeky too, particularly with the girls. ‘Jack,’ she said, ‘yes of course, Jack Eddy, I remember you, too.’

‘As this is official business, we ought to shake hands,’ said Jack, ‘but as you’re little Merrin Tripconey, I’m going to give you a hug.’ They embraced a little awkwardly.

‘Now I’d better go and fetch my warrant card,’ said Jack. ‘I need to be here when the inspector arrives, or there will be hell to pay.’

Merrin smiled. ‘Honestly, Jack, I really don’t think we need to bother with your warrant card, do you? We’ve known each other most of our lives and it’s chucking it down out there.’

‘Right-oh,’ said Jack, ‘you’d better show me this body, then, little Merrin.’

As she led the way up the stairs, Jack puffing and wheezing behind her, Merrin was struck with the bizarre notion that maybe there wasn’t a body at all, that she’d imagined it, which was why, as Jack had suggested, she was so calm. When they entered the bedroom, it was almost a relief to see the body was still there.

Jack stood at the end of the bed and stared down at the boy. ‘Poor young lad,’ he said at last. ‘He must have killed himself; there’s a lot of it about among this age group, I’m told. How old would you reckon he is?’

‘I would say eighteen at the very most, but he couldn’t have killed himself, Jack.’

‘Why ever not, Merrin Trip? There is no sign of violence on him.’

‘That’s the whole point,’ said Merrin, ‘there is no sign of anything. Look how neatly he’s tucked up in bed. He couldn’t have done that himself and there are no pills or anything else that could have contributed to his death. It’s almost as if he has been laid out, like for a funeral. Someone has been very careful with him, almost tender.’

‘You’re making a lot of assumptions there,’ said Jack, a little huffily.

Merrin was aware she had ruffled his feathers but that didn’t stop her from speaking her mind. After all her years with Adam, it seemed to her that Jack was the victim of some pretty sloppy thinking for a policeman. ‘I think he has been killed, or at any rate, died somewhere else and then the body has been placed here by someone who cares. It’s very odd.’

‘I wonder why that chair has been placed by the bed,’ said Jack.

‘I did that,’ said Merrin. ‘I moved the chair from under the window so that I could sit with him until you arrived.’

Jack gave her an odd look. ‘You shouldn’t have done that, my maid. You’re not supposed to touch anything at a crime scene, if it is a crime scene. You must know that from the telly.’ Jack was clearly trying to re-assert his position.

‘I’m sorry,’ said Merrin, as tactfully as she could. ‘I felt his pulse too, just to make absolutely sure that he was dead.’

‘You should have waited for us to do that, too,’ said Jack, his good humour now restored since it appeared that Merrin was in the wrong.

‘How could I wait for you to arrive? I had to make sure he was dead. Supposing he’d been still alive, could have been saved and I’d done nothing? He could have died while I was waiting for you to arrive.’

Merrin was now visibly upset and Jack rallied, putting an arm round her shoulders. ‘What we’re going to do now is to go downstairs and make a nice cup of tea while we wait for the inspector. You’re all shook up; we can’t have that, poor little Merrin.’

Merrin had brought some milk and tea bags with her to the cottage and Jack insisted on making the tea, clucking over her like a mother hen. Once seated at the kitchen table with their mugs of tea, Jack started reminiscing.

‘I think I saved your life, once upon a time, little Merrin Trip.’

‘Did you?’ said Merrin, frowning. ‘I don’t remember that, Jack.’

‘It was one afternoon, us kids were all pier jumping – off Smeaton’s Pier that day. You were a tiny bit of a girl, too small really to be jumping with us lads, but Jago was there so I expect you didn’t want to be left out.’

‘So, what happened?’ Merrin asked.

‘I was watching you. It was quite a high jump from the top of the pier. Some of the younger kids used to jump off the steps, but not you, little Merrin. Straight in you went but when you came back up to the surface, you were right beside a seal. Well, as you know, they don’t do you no harm but they are big buggers up close, even if you’re a grown up. You were such a tiny little maid, and not surprisingly you were frightened half to death.  You panicked and went under water again and when you came up you were choking.  So I dived in after you and pulled you out. Jago was jumping the other side of the pier but when he heard what had happened, he was so worried.  Anyway you were alright and look at you now.’

‘I do remember it now, it’s a bit hazy, but I can still see that gigantic seal. I thought it was going to eat me!’ said Merrin.  ‘I think I must have blanked out the whole incident but I never did enjoy pier jumping – I expect that’s why. It was bodyboarding for me, that’s what I liked best. Anyway, thank you, Jack, a little belatedly, I clearly owe you one.’

‘I loved pier jumping,’ said Jack, ‘all us lads did and in the summer the visitors’ kids used to join in. Happy days.’

‘Not so happy today, though,’ said Merrin, soberly. They both went silent, thinking of the poor dead boy upstairs, who probably would have loved pier jumping, too.